The initial success of The Voice was driven by the freshness of the concept- both in its actual content and in the fact that it was outside of Cowell’s influence. There was everything to play for, and the BBC had a golden opportunity to strike a blow for originality just within its grasp. Arguably, audiences were tired of Cowell’s monopoly- when they weren’t busy sniggering at him in the wake of the Tom Bower revelations.

Yet, as TS Eliot once wrote, ‘between the idea and the reality, between the motion and the act, falls the shadow’. Or, as they say in the less Oxbridge-educated echelons of TV land, ‘eat shit or get out of the kitchen’. The BBC dithered, and refused to commit to all-out war. Yet all-out war was brought to it, and by the time Cowell got into his stride, there wasn’t a single entity involved with The Voice, from eerie hip-hop aristocrat Will.i.am to the back-room concept makers in the boardroom, who got away without a savaging. Never underestimate the ruthless commitment to publicity that Simon Cowell both expects and delivers.

The BBC and other broadcasters are increasingly getting the content, but we’ve yet to find a channel with the stomach for publicity and showmanship that ITV have developed over the past decade. If it goes on at this rate, we’ll have Amanda Holden’s face plastered over every flat surface in the land. For ever and ever. If there was ever an argument for healthy competition, I think that’s it.

The whole situation illuminates a serious failing in public communications more than anything. Yesterday, I read The Metro on the tube, the front page adorned with a quasi-outraged piece on the arrival of standpipes on streets awash with torrential rain. Public attitude towards the droughts has reached a new level of complexity.

Yet, emerging from the train and ascending the escalators, I was surrounded by animated Thames Water awareness ads warning me of forthcoming water usage regulations via a seconds-long shot of water draining away to leave a patch of dry, cracked earth. It was a simple visual whose impact was totally dispelled when I left the station to be greeted by the never ending downpour. A popular internet acronym springs to mind: IDGI- I don’t get it.

Of course, as a well-informed man about town I’m more than familiar with the fact that a few weeks of wet is small match for a few years of dry- it’s that pesky science stuff again. However, my opinion doesn’t match that of the average folk on the street. Most commuters probably saw that ad, felt that rain, and found themselves utterly confused, in some cases outraged.

I can understand the thinking behind the campaign (it’s found in poster form on buses and other usual media targets too): the dry earth links our plight in the minds of viewers raised on TV news with dramatic shots of hundreds of natural disasters from the hotter parts of the world. If Thames Water hadn’t been scuppered by the rain, it might have been pretty effective. As it is, however, it doesn’t cut it. It looks patronising.

To me, this is symptomatic of a growing problem in communications- the lack of the big idea. A suitably flexible, dextrous, overall ambition opens itself to a range of clever executions, and leaves communications directors more flexible in responding to moments of unexpected environmental change. Smaller concepts like this one can be effective under the right conditions, but in the wrong situation they leave all your eggs languishing in the wrong basket.

What makes this story different from the spate of ‘troll’ tales is that this man works for Hill and Knowlton- a firm with whom Dent has worked, as she pointed out. For the sake of your sanity, if nothing else, you’d like to think that an employee of one of the largest and most famous Public Relations organisations in the world would understand the very public nature of Twitter, the current media appetite for troll-bashing, or at the very least would be loath to send a direct insult to an influential journalist with whom he or his colleagues might well discuss stories in the near future.
I have no idea what motivated him, but I’d hazard a guess that the culture of a PR megalith like H+K had something to do with it. I’ve got nothing against big agencies, and I’m not saying that they breed malice. Arguably, though, certain of their practices breed indifference and distance. In the Lower echelons of the big agency landscape, journalists aren’t contacts, sparring partners or friends. To our unfortunate Twitterer, Grace Dent the journalist is just a name, a faceless entity at the other end of an email who might occasionally provide his agency with some sought-after coverage.
We hear constantly about the alienating implications of digital contact- it’s often stated that, to the average teenager, a celebrity (or fabulous nobody) like Britney Spears or Rebecca Black is nothing but a target, fair game for cyber attacks. Even in the media world, we can’t lay the blame solely at the doors of H+K and their ilk. In world where bloggers and tweeters increasingly dominate the agenda- and use email to do it- one on one contact can seem irrelevant and pointless.
However, I can’t help but think wistfully of a time when a PR was someone known for their empathy, their ability to near-instantly connect with others. Perhaps someone needs to remind the big agencies that even at the lowest level a publicist will be judged not only by journalists but by clients on the closeness of their contacts, not their ability to scour Gorkana. If PR was a cold-calling industry, clients could hire a consultant and a telesales team.
‘Fools rush in’, then, not only to Twitter battles but to the very process of making contact with a journalist. However easy it might be now to take that initial step, the time invested in making a strong contact and building the mutual empathy that gets great coverage hasn’t ever changed. If anything, in a world of disassociated online connections, a well-chosen joke over the phone probably gets you further than it ever did.

Unquestionably, she’s damaged a previously untarnished image. However, if recent public opinion surrounding the Royals shows us anything, it’s that this is no longer a family (or extended family) you can write off at the drop of a hat. Besides, whatever becomes of Pippa, it’s highly unlikely that such an affair would do much to worry the custodians of the Royal Brand, who keep their charges in a very different space.

It seems like no time at all since we saw Harry splashed all over the papers, dressed in an SS uniform, stumbling out of a party. I wonder how all the commentators who wrote him off then felt when they saw the almost sickeningly adoring coverage around his recent meeting with Usain Bolt. Probably as gobsmacked as the rest of us, to be fair.

Undoubtedly, Pippa will have learned a hard lesson- when you’re associated with the Royals, you’re damned whatever you do, and you’re judged by the company you keep. However, I’d say this lesson comes at an opportune time. Still in the first flush of fame, this episode should teach Pippa how to begin thinking of herself as a brand. The key now will be for her to think about what she represents, move away from the users and hangers on who inevitably attach themselves to the newly famous and begin considering the serious commercial applications of her brand I’m sure remain just around the corner.

As the megalithic rapper burst onto the stage with a cry of “What the **** is up Coachella? Throw up a m************ finger!”, a cynic could hear the jingling of thousands of eager pockets as the entire live entertainment industry collectively calculated the potential posthumous income of a galaxy of late stars.

Money aside, though, this was everything a stunt should be: audacious, loud, unexpected, genuinely groundbreaking (Digitial Domain Media Group Inc. reckon this is the first time totally new 3D footage of a star has been used in this way) and, best of all, just a little bit silly. Supposedly, too, the bill behind this wasn’t negligible- most valuations are coming in at around the $1/2m mark.

Whatever Coachella pixies were behind this should be applauded: in the entertainment space, faint heart never won the hearts and minds of the fickle crowd. Let’s hope those with the power on our side of the pond are taking note and getting ready to listen to a few wild ideas. Ones that don’t involve billing Bruce Forsythe alongside Bob Dylan, that is.

Back at the start of last week, wherever you turned in mediaworld you found someone sticking their oar in (sorry) to the discussion on wayward idealist Australian Trenton Oldfield and his Pankhurst-esque self-sacrificial boat race stunt. I shan’t bother now to throw in my two cents about the morality of Oldfield’s actions, but I do think that what he has done impacts negatively upon those of us whose business and/or passion it is to grab headlines with acts of disruptive showmanship.

The first thing to say is that this was a pretty bland stunt. What I’m more worried about, however, is what this will do for police and public paranoia in the run-up to the Olympics. Already at boiling point, the police and LOCOG have spent the past few months whipping each other up into a frenzy over crowd control and health and safety. This will only confirm their worst fears. Any innocent reveller or spectator at any event could be a dangerous, subversive madman! Time to send in the thought police.

Generally, too, this event comes as part of a zeitgeist increasingly antithetical to the art of the stunt. The (largely negative) commentary on Oldfield’s actions focused more than almost anything else on how dangerous his actions were, how he endangered his life, how he caused inconvenience in restarting the race. Outrage at his politics would have been much more interesting- not to mention more favourable for his agenda. Caught in a pincer movement between a blandly litigious society on the one hand and a media landscape oversaturated with ill-considered stunts on the other, the public have no appetite for maverick antics.

Perhaps what’s been lost is a belief in the stunt as a piece of fun, a joke, almost a gift. Rather than a piece of direct action or a forcible promotion, a stunt should be playful, gentle and, preferably, crazy. A stunt’s impact comes from laughter, and from the sheer joy that persuades people to share. All the classic stunts share this aspect, whether they be making a serious point- Joey Skagg’s giant bra springs to mind (link)- or selling a bit of fluff like Reichenbach’s T.Arzan (link).

I call for a return not only to creativity in stunting but a permissiveness and relaxation in its execution. In our red-tape age it’s easy to forget that a public performance should be joyful. Whether you’re an activist or a marketer, try and perform, not preach. Theatres are far more fun than churches.

However, I could not help but be sincerely impressed by his appearance on Newsnight on Tuesday. Hauled up in front of Paxman as an unofficial spokesman for a whole industry, he cut an imposing figure, singled out from the mob of commentariat who’d been debating the issue of government trust more generally just prior. He proceeded to give a dignified and restrained defence of his profession which successfully placed most of the blame for recent wrongdoings onto the government, acknowledged whatever issues he was beholden to acknowledge and pretty much silenced Paxman.

Aside from anything else, Bell’s commitment to maintaining a passionate and engaged defence of his company’s work must have come as a much-needed morale boost to Bell Pottinger employees. Lord knows they’ll be in need of some TLC in the wake of the PRCA investigation and all clear. It’s a remarkable thing to see such a powerful and inspiring figurehead in a modern business, no matter what the nature of that business is. History shows us that most great PR companies have had a strong figurehead to guide them through calm and stormy waters alike.

His defence might be broken down into three equally effective strands. Bell began with a variant on the Kenneth Clarke ‘fuss about nothing’ shtick- ‘Salesmanship in a sales meeting is perfectly reasonable’ he said of allegations of ‘boasting’ directed at Tim Collins. He moved on to question the qualifications of those savaging his profession- ‘you haven’t the faintest idea what a lobbyist is’ he told Paxman. Finally, he delivered a powerful tour de force: a demand that the media acknowledge the necessity of lobbying in some form. Of the proposed Statutory Register of Lobbyists (which, at least publicly, he stated no objections to), he pointed out that a selection of the country’s most august investigative journalists are currently lobbying to bring such a thing into being.

I’m reminded of Edward Bernays- another man expert at turning self-defence into advertising. His 1928 book ‘Propaganda’- a familiar tome on the shelves of any PR- has often been hailed not only as an apology for the PR industry but a work of propaganda in itself. Bernays picked up a fair few clients through the release of the book, in which he subtly manages to plug virtually all of his own greatest hits.

It’s pretty easy to imagine any powerful figure from the business world watching Bell’s performance and marking him down for future hire. Certainly I can think of a number of FTSE 100 companies for whom this will have been a welcome reminder of his influence and skill set. There are many good reasons why lobbyists and corporate PRs shun publicity (ROLAND Rudd, supposedly the most powerful man in the PR industry according to the PRWeek powerbook, is famously averse). However, Bell proves that, if you do it right, publicity needn’t open you up to ridicule, no matter how unpopular your work.

First, those pasties. For me, the entire affair was summed up by Paxman’s expression to camera on Wednesday’s Newsnight. The look I’m talking about came as Tory MP Nadim Zahawi defended his party leader’s inability to recall the precise location at which he last enjoyed a pasty. Comprising disdain, crumpled bemusement and downright remorse, Paxman’s face radiated not only scepticism toward a party unable to connect with its voters, but disbelief at the fact that this had been deemed a suitable topic for interview.

The fault of journalists? Perhaps, in part, but a journalist has a responsibility to chase the clearest and most appealing line. It is the job of Westminster PR pixies to ensure that there is sufficient fodder available for a higher calibre of debate. It is also their job to vet soundbites and media brief speakers, something it’s hard to believe happened (though it did) before Cameron deemed himself to be a ‘pasty man’.

The end result of Pasty Gate is a beyond all reasonable doubt confirmation of the fact that we are ruled by an established elite. Something we knew, yes, but something we know a bit more clearly and memorably now. Something also that contributed to that other shock story of the week, the election of George Galloway in Bradford West.

I can’t pretend to be able to explain quite why Galloway made it with so many voters. For me, his performance on CBB alone should be enough to prevent anyone placing him in any position of power ever again. My enduring image of him is of a man lying with his head in Rula Lenska’s lap, meowing like a character dreamed up by Chris Morris.

However, we can perhaps draw two points from his victory. Firstly, an increasingly alienated public are seeking desperately after any political organisation which can provide them with an identifiable face. Often, unfortunately, this comes in the form of single-issue, extremist politics. Secondly, mainstream politics is gradually becoming so ridiculous that pretending to be a cat on national television looks comparatively reasonable.

We can only hope that such antics have one happy effect: however ridiculous the issue, the populous are engaging with politics. The results may not be useful now, but this is surely one road out of the current reality TV tabloid hell we find ourselves in. For now, I can only deliver the following advice to the jeering masses (apologies to Siegfried Sassoon): “slip home and pray/you’ll never know/the hell where youth and laughter go”.

With both sides claiming victory and analysts still picking over the remains, the ratings battle between BGT and The Voice was a close call. While BGT won the peak ratings prize with 11.5m viewers, The Voice managed to sustain figures during its 20 minute overlap with BGT, showing that Cowell’s property didn’t entice many viewers away.

However, the publicity battle was clearly dominated by one man alone.  You can’t manufacture, train or interview for a showbiz force like Cowell. For all his slick, cultivated grouchiness, he is approachable. Like the great capitalist showmen before him- PR Barnum and Gordon Selfridge to name two- he befriends journalists and makes himself available naturally, without looking desperate, and without needing to concede too many favours.

As a consequence, when he went in guns blazing to the pre-show PR wrangling, the results were staggering. From a few artfully handled nubs about his sense of humour failure on Jonathan Ross (which served the purpose of placing Cowell firmly on his pedestal as well as re-establishing the funnyman profile of David Walliams), to his threats to ‘poach’ Jessie J, he brought the firepower, and the papers lapped it up. I don’t think I’d realised until now how much The X Factor suffered from his absence.

The Voice is a great show, and a much quoted tweet of mine describing it as ‘too complicated’ was overly hasty- this is a real grower. However, I hope they learn a sharp lesson from this- the beast of compliance creates caution, which numbs the sense of promotion. As Dan Wootton tweeted on Friday, the lengths the BBC went to to play down the importance of ratings were fascinating. With spend on the programme reaching 22million, the pretence was farcical- evidence only of the beeb’s lack of publicity balls.

With outlets like the BBC dominated by an obscurantist, executive driven culture, where is the next Cowell? Whether the thought of another fills you with dread or fervour, you can’t deny that a publicity punch-up between the two is just the sugar rush the Saturday night chatter has been waiting for.

1. Don’t Throw the Baby Out with the Bathwater

This is an absolutely necessary concept to grasp for viral marketers in the current landscape. While on the one hand the success of KONY should be celebrated by digital marketers as an indication of our unprecedentedly connected society, its story involves more than grassroots appeal and word of mouth. In addition to savvy use of social media networks, the folk at Invisible Children also displayed a complete understanding of the continued power of traditional media.

An article by Bono in the Irish Sunday Times on the 11^th of March preceded a noted increase in sharing, which previously had been declining since the 7^th. Many commentators noted the powerful traditional media imagery within the film itself, including mock-ups of TIME and the New York Times. Interestingly, celebrity endorsements comparable to Bono’s but delivered via twitter had no noticeable effect on shares.

Despite the undoubtedly large part played here by collective excitement and sharing instinct, KONY 2012’s success also indicates that a well-placed media spike still works wonders when used in conjunction with great viral content.

2. Anticipate the Flak

Were it not so, but it isn’t possible to publish this post without at least briefly touching on the ‘unfortunate incident’ which closed one chapter of the KONY media saga at the end of last week. Apparently suffering from extreme stress as a result of the video’s unanticipated popularity and the hostile backlash against both the cause and his person, filmmaker and ‘dreamer’ Jason Russell was picked up by police for running naked through the streets of San Diego, pounding the pavement, ranting about the devil and allegedly masturbating.

While I don’t forsee the average mid level marketing manager whipping off their smart casual and wreaking havoc across the 2^nd floor at the culmination of every online campaign, it’s important to bear in mind that a characteristic of digital is a certain boisterousness of opinion. A channel which relies on the whims of the public for its distribution mechanism is never going to be entirely predictable in its results or its reach, no matter how well managed it may be. This in mind…

3. Adapt to Your Audience

KONY 2012 was a perfectly pitched advertisement-cum-educational tool for the western audience for whom it was originally conceived. Stats show that not only was the film a fanatical success, but it was most popular not with charity friendly 18-24 demographics, but with notoriously difficult 13-17 year olds. Seemingly, a powerful human interest angle, a strong line in the rhetoric of fame and a well-considered knowledge of teenage sharing habits brought Joseph Kony into every school in the US and Europe (not like that).

However, the film went down less well when it was taken out of this context and shown to long-suffering Ugandans, who react with undisguised outrage at what they perceived to be a patronising oversimplification of their country’s tribulations.

My instinct would be to defend the film-makers, at least to a degree; that they managed to make a half hour film set in Africa which teens could bring themselves to sit through is impressive regardless of how dumbed down that film might have been. However, it’s hard to explain the fickle, hyper energised and occasionally feckless viewing habits of a western teenager to someone whose kids have been captured by one of Africa’s most appalling warlords.

The continued PR success of a digital campaign relies on an awareness of the existence of traditional market boundaries even in the connected new economy, and the tailoring of content to suit these markets.

4. Understand your aims

Fundamentally, KONY 2012 was a fantastic campaign which only really suffered PR wise because of a lack of direction- a contact at fellow social media superstar charity Avaaz told me that the video had left the charity world impressed but confused as to its intentions. Undoubtedly, Invisible children have achieved the remarkable feat of making Kony famous. The question now is what next?

Of course, there are all kinds of potential ways to leverage this initial achievement, but without holding any of them explicitly in mind, Invisible Children opened themselves up to the ‘slacktivist’ label. It would be perhaps too much to claim that, with a little more foresight, Russell might have evaded his tragic breakdown, but it certainly might have helped the campaign keep an even keel.

In the sometimes nebulous digital space, evaluation and clear messaging are both key. Keeping campaign aims in mind at every stage, and not allowing yourself to be carried away by possibilities, keep this at the heart of activity.